


I Wanna Hide the Truth, I Wanna Shelter You

by aprofessorbhaer



Series: Demons (Markiplier Egos & Reader/OC) [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Family, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Issues, Feels, Gen, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Mental Anguish, Mother's Day, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Neurodiversity, Parent-Child Relationship, Queer Character, Queer Gen, Queer Themes, Queer Youth, Reader-Insert, Self-Hatred, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprofessorbhaer/pseuds/aprofessorbhaer
Summary: Reader/oc asks one of Markiplier's egos, the Author, for a favor as a gift for their mom on Mother's Day.





	I Wanna Hide the Truth, I Wanna Shelter You

I tried to be quiet as I approached him, but I should’ve known it was wasted effort. He spoke without looking up from his writing. “Hello, there. What can I do for you, little friend of Markiplier?” 

I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Mark told me about you. About what you can do. I…wanted to ask for a favor.”

Author chuckled, still focused on his task. “We haven’t even been properly introduced, and you already beg a boon of me? Such poor manners.” He tutted, his tone teasing, but I couldn’t tell how offended he really was. This was a powerful being I was talking to, regardless of his physical resemblance to my friend. 

I shifted on my feet nervously. “I…I’m sorry. But Mother’s Day is coming up, and I wanted your help with giving my mom a present.”

For the first time, Author paused in his writing. He seemed intrigued. “Oh? And what gift could I possibly help you with?”

“I want you to edit me. Please.”

Author slowly rose from his desk chair, turning to face me with a puzzled expression. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely know what you mean. Please explain.”

I clenched my hands into fists, trying not to lose my nerve. “I’d like you to rewrite me, please. I know that you can control reality through your writing, and I want you to make me different. I want to be someone else.”

Author crossed his arms over his chest. “A lot of people want to be different, little one. Change is difficult and scary. Why should I make it so easy for you? Why are you so special?”

I nearly snorted in derision. “I’m not special. But I’m not doing this for myself, either. It’s for my mom.”

Author tilted his head like he was trying to figure me out. “And why would your mother want you to be different from the way you are now? Surely she loves you. Do you not love her?”

“Of course I love her! That’s why I’m doing this!” I nearly stomped my foot in frustration. “I’m all wrong! I’m broken! I’m tearing my family apart and they’d be better off with someone besides me!”

Author adjusted him glasses. “What, exactly, would you like me to change?”

My eyes widened in surprise at his capitulation, but I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I…I want to be normal. I want to be the daughter that my mom wants me to be. I want to stop being a disappointment to the family.”

“And what constitutes normal, to you?”

“I already told you, this is about my mom, not me.”

Author nodded, then sat back down in his chair, facing me. “Well, then. Tell me what your mother would deem normal, little one.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking. “Um…you know. A daughter who’s neurotypical, and straight. The girl I used to be, before I went and changed.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice in the last few words.

Author nodded, holding his chin in thought, then asked “So, what caused you to change? What was the catalyst?”

I hung my head. “I don’t know.”

Author sighed in disappointment. “If you’re not going to bother with honesty, you’re wasting both of our times, little one.”

“I’m not lying!!!” I think my forcefulness startled both of us, but I was too upset to reign myself in. “I don’t know why I am this way! I don’t know what I did or what my parents did to make this happen! I just want it to stop! I don’t want to be a disappointment anymore! I don’t want to be the reason my family is upset or hurt or uncomfortable! If I haven’t actually changed and I’ve actually been this way the whole time, please just erase it! Or erase my memory of it! Take me back to the time when I didn’t know I’m so goddamn different from everyone else!” My head hurt from the yelling, and from the tears that wanted to fall.

Author looked…pleased. “Well, you’re right, little one. I could change you, or make you forget. But I won’t. Don’t you remember who I am? I’m a best-selling author! Stories are my business. And do you know what the basis of a story is? Conflict! Drama! Obstacles between us and what we want! So I’m not going to just make yours magically disappear, no. You’re the protagonist of the story: go and solve your problems yourself! Or don’t, and learn some self-acceptance, instead. Just don’t come crying to me when the situation you just described for me is the perfect set up for a YA novel.” With that, Author suddenly returned to writing, opening to a fresh page in his notebook and scribbling furiously.


End file.
